Today is a day when I wish I could scream it out. I wish I was in the field in Oxfordshire or the Brecon beacons with no one to start or save potentially some sheep.
It is just too much. Too much sad news. Too much grief. I am tired of sucking up sad news and standing by graveside either in person or virtually. When will there be an end to this relentless season?
I, of course know, there will never be an end to sorrow and death until my life ends. Or if you believe in an end of the world narrative, that day comes. But for nearly the last two years–beginning pre-Covid–loss and grief have been faithful companions. This is a friendship I’d happily break. Even if eventually, we reluctantly reconcile again.
This new normal that keeps being referred to, at best seems ever-changing at worst, ever-elusive or escaping.
I’ve held that opinion for a while, but maybe it feels more prevalent as in The UK the so-called ‘freedom day’ has recently been pushed back another 4 to 5 weeks.
I’m over accepting one has to navigate the new normal and live in the present. It’s just a bit of a challenge to do so, when it is constantly in flux.
With seemingly ever evaporating parameters for what determines when this new normal, will have been deemed to have arrived.
In the meantime, our so-called leaders are being caught out in their web of lies. Totally and something in my opinion and concerned about who they interact in there with them.
I am a lover of personal space and I’ve never understood why, on a practically empty bus or train carriage, someone would come and plonk themselves down next to you.
However, as much as I understand the need for social distancing—and feel some people so don’t get what two metres means—I am trying hard to resist regarding every human being as a breathing biological threat.
Something, that the longer this goes on for, and the more alarming statistics we hear; I fear some will find impossible to do.